


The best part about Halloween

by TyrantTirade



Series: Holiday Meet-Cute's! [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asthma, Bucky's basically a puppy, Candy, Explicit Language, Fights, Food, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sassy Steve Rogers, that's his Halloween costume too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8457556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyrantTirade/pseuds/TyrantTirade
Summary: Honestly Halloween is just so wonderful. Something about the entirety of the month of October, The atmosphere, the season. It's all so perfect. 
But Halloween itself definitely isn't the best part about Halloween time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you're thinking, isn't it a little late for Halloween fics? Yeah, probably.
> 
> But this isn't a Halloween Fic, even though it's pretty much implied that it is. 
> 
> This takes place three days after Halloween and it actually is three days after Halloween so I'm in the clear right? Right?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this dumb shit!

Halloween is great. Honestly Halloween is just so wonderful.

Something about the entirety of the month of October, The atmosphere, the season. It's all so perfect.

Autumn leaves speckle the oak trees around Bucky's apartment. Pumpkin everything is everywhere. There's orange and black adorning everything and while it sort of has this sullenness to it all, it's so happy and kind of comforting.

It pulls the ex-goth out of Bucky's soul, makes him want to dig out his old creepers and dye his longass hair black and listen to _Deathstars_ on repeat like he did in high school.

It's this strange feeling of home. This whole presence that's alive and powerful, yet dark and frightening.

It warms Bucky's stupid little black heart.

 

—

So while bucky tends to skip Christmas, doesn't have family for Thanksgiving, and can't commit enough for Valentine's day, Halloween is a priority.

He may be an antisocial little fuckhead but he tries his best.

He buys candy, gets a costume for his trick-or-treaters, lines his doorway with fake cobwebs and _spooky_ ghost stickers that he gets because... _They're just, adorable, I mean the ghosts have candy corn and squishy little faces._

_Bucky's not quite as deep as he thinks he is._

He makes Nat and Clint carve pumpkins, buys a dumb ghost t-shirt, drinks an unholy amount of apple cider, Watches _Tim Burton_ movies on repeat. Edward Scissorhands being his favorite _because Johnny Depp as Edward is a work of his innermost fantasies._

He even actually gets out of his bed that day which is a feat in itself.

 

—

Generally the night, as always goes off great. The kids are sweet and tiny and they take his candy from his little puppy paw hands ( _He dressed as a Dalmatian this year_ )

Natasha and he sit on the couch waiting for trick-or-treaters, drinking apple ale, and watching A star wars marathon.

It's probably the most fun Bucky has all year.

 

—

But while the holiday festivities are great let's just face the facts of what's the real, _Best part about Halloween…_

Discounted candy.

Twenty-Four hour pharmacies selling bags of Teeth-rotting sugar and leftover decorations for a percentage off.

Super fucking cheap candy is most definitely the _best, best, best part._

The part that Bucky sort of secretly looks forward too all year long.

It's like the black Friday of Halloween but with less awful crowds and actual better deals and...super cheap candy.

_mmm Candy._

 

—

As always, three days after Halloween, Two am during A not so mild streak of nightmares. The kind that wake him up sweating and gasping for air that just won't enter his lungs. That keep him up for the remains of the day. He finds himself with zombie-like enthusiasm strolling the Halloween aisles of A store near his home.

His feet pat along, converse laces flopping lazily and untied on the clean white tiles while he looks over the remaining bags of candy.

There's a surprisingly large amount left on the shelves that overwhelms him just a little. Partially overwhelming because he doesn't want to spend every dollar he has on candy, _even though it's tempting._ Partially overwhelming because the massive fluorescent lights in the store are burning like solar flares straight into his incredibly tired eyeballs and killing his sleepy head.

 

—

He's mostly unaware of his surroundings, just shifting around tiredly and gazing at the bags with little interest until he sees what he's looking for.

_The holy grail_

_The creme de la creme_

_The fucking Jesus equivalent in Candy._

A giant, _I mean massive_ bag of tiny portioned pouches of Sour patch kids.For Fifty fucking percent off.

 

—

Bucky's eyes shoot open in excitement, energy instantly shooting through his body like he just got resuscitated back to life. Like an adrenaline needle was stabbed straight in his chest.

He hasn't been this pumped for anything in _ever...in ever._

 

_—_

His hand reaches out _slowly to grab the giant_ bag. Fingers moving in nearly slow-motion speed and curling to snatch the end. His fingertips just clutching the seam of the bag when suddenly a hand lands smack dab over his.

He doesn't break eye contact with the bag. Just hopes that maybe the stranger will realize the error of their ways and back off from what is _clearly_ already his.

The fingers over top his, curling around the bag are thin and long. harsh juts of bones and tendons cut over the smooth flesh.

They're quite masculine hands but judging by the size there's no way they don't belong to a (Very tiny) lady.

Bucky's palms are way thicker in width and much larger in size but somehow the hands are nearly as long as his and the grip is firm.

Like just by looking at the frail hands he absolutely can tell that whoever this chick is...She's got some fucking sass in her.

 

—

Bucky forces up a real damn charmer for a grin. His teeth showing prettily and confident in attempt to maybe use charisma to get the upper hand on the bag.

Tilting his head softly with the smile plastered across his face he begins to speak “I'm sorry ma'am.”

But as soon as his heads fully circled and he's looking at the stranger his stomach drops straight into his toes. Knots roll up in his gut and make him feel suckerpunched. The life legitimately gets drained from his piece if shit soul because...The hand most certainly doesn't belong to a woman.

In fact the hand is connected to a very thin, short man with a _not so pleased_ expression on his face.

By not so pleased he means, pissed the fuck off.

 

—

Bucky's face twitches some, his mouth dropping like his jaw came unhinged for more reason than one.

Not only does he feel like an absolute jackass for having the gall to accidentally call this _very obvious_ man a ma'am.

But said man is also absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous.

He's short yes, and stick thin but his face is fucking flawless. His eyes are wide and waterdrop blue, with eyelashes that are long and butterfly fluttery that frame them. His nose is long and defined and just fucking darling in contrast to his stubble lined jaw that looks to be cut with diamond slice precision. His hairs blonde like fucking Cinderella and so soft that bucky would willingly pet it like a puppy for hours.

But best if all those lips...Those lips are dick sucking lips if Bucky's ever seen ‘em.

 

—

With what little dignity Bucky has left he works up a remorseful smile. A soft apologetic thing to pair with his mumbled and stuttered “Shit- I'm so sorry dude.”

The man squints back like Bucky's just made things worse. His hand shifting across the bag to get a tighter grip as he says “What's your problem?” in a voice that's drastically deeper than bucky could have ever imagined. Like wet dream, boner instigating, panty dropping deep and so very Brooklyn.

A big chunk of Bucky's mind wants to headbutt the shelf for being such a Fuck up and ruining _literally_ any chance that he could have had with this tiny little Greek God. _Just had to go and fuck things up didn't you Barnes?_

And _God,_ Bucky feels like such a Fucking dick. His hands still wrapped tightly around the bag, right next to the pretty strangers, and all he wants to do is admire that goddamn face. He's borderline ready to drop to his knees and sob for forgiveness.

Either that or drop to his knees for an impromptu apology blowjob...Whatever the guys up for.

Instead he yanks his head out of the gutter and whisper shy clarifies “I'm so, so, sorry man, I should have paid attention.”

The man in turn just glares back at him, nodding towards the bag and making his straight hair flip with momentum “How bout you let go of the bag and we call it even.” He says with a smile that makes Bucky's heart all fuzzy.

But since Bucky's fucked up his reputation with this cute boy he's not fucking up his chance to get this giant bag of Sour patch kids. _no fucking way._

He gives the guy an apologetic smile and a very genuine “I'm sorry” as he snatches the bag with all of his sleepless strength.

 

—

The guy's response is completely unexpected. He stands up straight and pops out his chest, saying fiercely in that deepass voice “Hey you motherfucker, what's your problem.”

Bucky's a little annoyed at this point so he just shifts around and works up this cockeyed, sarcastic grin. “I'm sorry...But I fucking had it first.”

And he instantly sort of regrets it.

The tiny guy isn't so tiny when he's shoving you into a shelf like a pissed off baby goat.

Bucky's response being, kick, _kick like you've never kicked before._ Heavily forcing the guy onto his ass with the sole of his shoe. His body hanging against the shelf while candy bags fall all around him in an avalanche of half priced Halloween treats.

 

—

He stands and pulls his hands into fists to fight off the little bastard before realizing that he's sort of already won.

The guys curled up on his ass, arms wrapped tight around himself as he gasps for air. And not just, ‘ _I got hit_ ’ gasps but actual ‘ _I'm_ _Fucking_ _suffocating_ ’ gasps. His hands scrambling around him with desperation while he chokes like a fish out of water.

Bucky can't even move from his stance, all he can think is _Oh my God I killed him, I'm a murderer, oh fuck, I punctured his lung. He's dead because of my dumbass need for fucking sugary little candy humans, I'm such an idiot._

 

_—_

Finally his head catches up and he drips down to the guys level. Softly petting his shaking arm and asking “What can I do man? are you- shit, what can I fuckin’ do?”

The guy doesn't pay much mind to what Bucky's saying. Instead, grabbing in his pocket with his pretty little, dainty, now slightly blue hands to yank a yellow inhaler from his pocket.

Bucky's eyes gape at it, Like, _no shit, you idiot of course an asthmatic won't be able to breathe if you kick then straight in the guts._

The tiny guy gives it a half-assed shake and puffs from it once then twice. His breath catching back up on itself relievingly.

Bucky's body relaxes a little with the finalization that the guys okay, he's breathing, he's fine now. But Bucky feels like utter shit. Like the biggest asshole that's ever stepped foot in the Halloween aisle.

He doesn't jump on being apologetic although he wants too, instead he allows the little guy to settle into living another day. Catching the last of his breath and exhaling like it's the greatest sensation of his life.

 

—

“Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry” Bucky says into his palms with so much sincerity that it's pathetic. He can't move his fingers to actually look at the guy from how goddamn bad he feels. Having complete acceptance that he deserves to get his little ass beat by the little dude. Totally willing to get punched in his mouth.

The guy responds in a way that he really does not expect “It's okay” He says, all shy and forgiving. “I provoked it. I'm sorry”

 

—

Bucky can't believe this motherfucker. He just got kicked in the stomach hard enough to knock the breath out of him by a guy twice his size and he thinks it's his fault? Bucky's sitting here feeling like garbage because he basically just beat up someone that doesn't have a chance against his ass. That's like hitting a kid or a lady. Now he doesn't want to discredit the guy or treat him like he's a weakling based on his size but bucky obviously has an advantage and instead of fighting fair he played cheap and kicked like a bitch. Now this tiny guy with a hero complex thinks that he's entirely to blame and Bucky's not sure if he wants to kick him again or kiss his stupid fucking mouth.

 

—

Instead of either he stands up, dusting his ass and lifting the guy by those tiny palms to his feet. “How about, for all the trouble, I buy the bag and you can keep it all. It's all I can do for putting you through that shit.” he offers.

“It's cool, it really is, I've had much worse.” The guy responds, sticking one of those little hands out for a shake. “I'm Steve by the way.”

Bucky grins like a cheesy bastard. Feeling absolutely smitten over this tiny little cutie pie named Steve that's kind yet sassy and Bucky's type to a T. “Bucky,” He responds, sticking his own much larger hand into Steve's. “You get into fights with strangers a lot?”

Steve rolls his pretty blue eyes, making those ridiculous lashes flutter upward. “When assholes provoke me.”

Bucky chuckles at that, reaching to put the fallen candy bags up and thanking God that no store associates saw their little scrimmage. Finally pulling the Massive _sour patch kids_ bag into his arms like a sack of potatoes. “Well Steve, I know that you're self-deprecating but I really do insist. Call it a paid debt for being one of those fight starting assholes.”

Steve surprisingly doesn't argue.

 

—

They walk together into the November cold, out from the automatic doors of the Pharmacy. Three am darkness hueing the sky in cloudy black.

Steve's thin arms carry the big bag, making it look even larger than it is. His eyes glancing, gorgeous, even in the awful, streetlight glow up at Bucky's. “So, I realized that I'm not sure if I can eat this all by myself.” He says a bit shyly, A little undertone of tease behind his tone, and still so impossibly deep.

Bucky and Steve both stop mid step, careless to the fact that they're in the middle of the parking lot, taking up a parking space to look at each other knowingly. “You wanna come to my place and help me obliterate this?” He continues.

Bucky smiles so wide that it literally hurts. Nodding his head aggressively, not giving a single fuck about how super fucking eager he is.

 

—

Three am, Three days after Halloween the next year Bucky's walking down the same fluorescent Halloween aisle.

One giant bag of _Sour patch kids_ sits on the shelf invitingly and there's no tiny guy to snatch it up this time. _It's a little bit of a shame._

Bucky grabs the bag and purchases it without a scuffle. Trying to rush as quick as he can to get out of the place.

After all, he's got a feisty little dude at home waiting for candy.

and this time he doesn't have to stare like an idiot and wonder how great those lips would be at giving head. He sort of already knows the answer to that.

  
Oh boy, _does he know._

**Author's Note:**

> -Sorry for the dumb Goth references, my teenage years were weird.
> 
> -sour patch kids are the best thing ever okay
> 
> -This is legitimately my favorite part about Halloween. 
> 
> -but picture Bucky in a Dalmatian outfit with little paw mittens giving out candy...Precious.
> 
>  
> 
> I really, really hope you liked it, ive been wanting to finish a meet-cute for awhile and I'm actually pretty happy with this.
> 
> The mistakes are my own, let me know if I missed a tag.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, thanks so much for reading!
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> **  
> [Follow my Tumblr!](http://Tyranttirade.tumblr.com)  
>    
>  **
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> 
> I don't own anything at all except for the dumb jokes and the awful dialogue, credit goes to marvel and the respective creators.


End file.
